


In The Absence Of Light

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: He can’t stop thinking about it. That vision. That future. Where Damian’s dead because of him and he’s a goddamn murderer.





	In The Absence Of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Dick’s last vision during the _Nightwing Must Die!_ arc. I dunno, I feel like he’d get hella emotional and fucked up about it, and just emotionally snowball himself into thinking about Damian and what the two of them have been through together, etc etc. Dick wakes up with the cat’s butt in his face.

When he opened Damian’s bedroom door, that’s what he expected – Damian. Maybe Damian awake, painting, reading or listening to music. Maybe Damian sleeping, tucked in to bed for night or napping along Titus’s flank.

He didn’t expect to find Dick in there, too. On the floor, knees curled to chest, arms wrapped around them. Shoulders wracking with sobs as he hid his face in the crook of his elbow. Titus wrapped around his feet.

And he didn’t mean to, but with Bruce’s life – he feared the worst. Was Damian gone? Had something happened and he’d run away, and Dick was the first to come upon an empty bedroom? No, that wasn’t it at all. The boy was curled up in bed, peaceful face buried in the fur of the cat balled against his chest, both asleep.

Or Bruce thought he was asleep. Again, always thinking the worst – had Damian passed away in his sleep? Was there an injury that they didn’t know about that might have caused internal damage, ruining any chance of saving him? No. No, he – he breathed, right there. Breathed in and out, and his cat purred, stretched his paw up to hold Damian’s cheek in reward for the action.

So…he was alive. He was asleep. He was _right there_. So why was his eldest brother having an emotional breakdown on his floor?

“He’s been in there for hours.” Bruce twitched and glanced to his side. Tim and Cassandra stood there in the shadow of the hallway, looking like twins from various horror movies. It was Tim who had spoken. “The crying is new, though. Before he was just staring at the wall.”

“And Damian?”

“Asleep just as long.” Tim explained. “No idea Dick’s even in there. Really think he’d be sleeping if he did?”

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Both Tim and Cassandra shrugged. “Didn’t even know Dick was in town until he showed up at the front door, and made a beeline for Damian’s room. He looked upset about something, but won’t say anything.”

“‘I’m fine.’ he says.” Cassandra murmured. “Smiles all…sad. Tells us not to let him bother us.”

“We’re checking on him every hour.” Tim promised. “Left him food and water and all that inside the door, but.” He glanced in the threshold. “Doesn’t look like he’s taken much.”

“Maybe you will have better luck.” Cassandra offered. “Call if you need help?”

“Of course.” Bruce muttered absently, glancing back into the room. He listened as his middle children continued on to whatever their original goal was, waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, before silently opening the door.

He should have knocked, perhaps. But it wasn’t Dick’s room, and the room’s true occupant was asleep.

“Dick?”

Dick jerked and looked up, and the sight of Dick’s tearstained face was worse than hearing it.

But Dick’s face morphed instantly from utter anguish to embarrassment, and he immediately began wiping at his face.

“No, it’s…” Bruce stepped forward, hesitated, then continued on, kneeling in front of Dick. “It’s okay. You can cry if you need to.”

Dick sniffed, and looked away, down at the dog attempting to comfort him. “I don’t need to, though. I shouldn’t be.”

And that was as good of an opening as he was going to get. “What’s wrong?”

“Thinking.” Dick shook his head, snorted a hateful laugh aimed at himself. “ _Over_ -thinking. Thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce glanced up when Damian shifted, but the cat was his guardian now. Struck up his purrs again, snuggled deeper into Damian’s neck, and kept him under the peaceful shroud of sleep.

“It’s…stupid. It wasn’t even real, but I can’t stop thinking about it.” Dick whispered. Shook his head again, then pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Bruce, do you know how much I love Damian?”

It was an odd question, a question Bruce wasn’t expecting. “…Of course. I…kind of think everyone does.”

“He’s saved my life. He _saves_ my life every day, did you know that?”

“I never quite thought about it that way, but…sure, I suppose.” Then again: “Dick, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’d be a bad person.” Dick continued, as if Bruce had never spoken. “Bruce, without Damian I’d be a fucking _terrible_ person.”

“You wouldn’t.” Bruce promised – because that was the only thing he _did_ know, truly. Dick was a good person. No matter what, Dick was the best of all of them, and always would be. “Why do you think that?” After a moment. “Damian would yell at you, if he heard you talking like that.”

Another bitter chuckle. “I know. That’s why I came in here after he was asleep.”

They lapsed into silence. The loudest sound in the room was Damian’s breathing.

“This last bout with Dr. Hurt.” Dick finally started. “I…He made me see a vision, right after I found Damian. When I thought he was _dead_ , I had this vision.”

Another moment of quiet. Dick’s tears kept falling, harder now at the memory.

“It was the future, and Damian was dead. Dead and gone and.” A small gasp. “…I became what Jason always wanted _you_ to be. To avenge Damian’s death, I let the world go to shit so I could become a murderer. Tracking down those who killed him, and were in any way involved in his killing, and beating them until they were pulp. Until it could barely be believed that they existed as a human being at all.”

“…Dick, that wasn’t real. It was just a vision. A…a fever dream.” Bruce murmured. “The future is not set in stone, not for anyone. Visions are wrong. Visions aren’t _real_. Look at my own so-called visions about Damian in the future. About how he would destroy the world. Do you really think those are real?”

“No. _No_.” Dick sobbed. “But still. Bruce. There’s evidence. There’s evidence mine _could_ be real.”

“Evidence?”

“When Damian’s involved, or…when the _absence_ of Damian is involved, I get…violent. Stupid. _Scary_.” Dick whispered. “Our first mission together, all those years ago, when he ran off alone after Pyg, I was too violent with Pyg’s minions in attempts to get information to find him. When Talia took Damian to fix his spine after Flamingo, I was so restless I decided to try to resurrect _you_. The first time we fought Hurt, when he tried to convince Damian to join him, I got so scared I let myself get _shot_. When you took him to be your partner, I…I got lost. When he _died_ protecting _me_ , I…I wanted to die. Bruce, I wanted to _kill_. Anyone who crossed my path I beat to within an inch of their life, did you know that? Did you _see_ that?”

Bruce had. Even in his own blinding grief during that time…he saw it.

“When Lincoln March tried to take him into the Court of Owls, when he put that bomb in his fucking face…I thought I was going to kill him.” Dick continued. “I was, Bruce. I was going to kill him. Had every intention to.” Another pause, and when he spoke again, he sounded scared. “And I was _okay with that_.”

More silence. Bruce heard Tim and Cassandra in the kitchen downstairs.

“I was okay with that.” Dick breathed. “For Damian, I was okay with killing March right there. And then this second time with Hurt…I could have…I-I _would_ have…”

Dick turned as he trailed off, and stared heartbrokenly up to his little brother on the bed.

“The visions aren’t wrong.” Dick decided. “There’s evidence of it, Bruce, in real life. And that vision of life without Damian…it’s not wrong.”

Bruce watched. Wondered.

“If I lose him…” Dick suddenly looked back, buried his face back in his arms as if he were ashamed. “I can’t lose him, Bruce. I can’t lose Damian. I love him too much to lose him again.” Hesitation, to sniff. To shudder and dig his nails into his own arms. “And I’m scared of what I’ll become if I do.”

And Bruce could only look down at him, then up at Damian, then between them a few times. Amazing. It was amazing how life worked sometimes. Amazing how the most violent of them was the most vulnerable. How he had become, arguably, their most loved. The one none of them could live without. Not Bruce, not Dick. Not Jason or Cassandra or Tim either.

Amazing how his loss shattered them all so terribly, that they were still trying to recover, even though he had returned to them, pure and whole.

Amazing, because Damian had no earthly idea.

“…Dick.” Bruce tried weakly. “Dick, can you look at me?”

Dick shook his head like the terrified eight-year-old he once was. A boy who just wanted his parents back, and Bruce couldn’t give him that.

“Dick, it’s okay.” Bruce continued anyway, gently working his fingers under Dick’s to pluck the nails away from his skin. “Damian’s right here, okay? And he’s not going anywhere.”

Dick let Bruce take hold of his hand, cradling it tenderly between both of his.

“And I…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t promise you won’t – _we_ won’t – lose him again, but. But we’ll do everything we can to keep him safe. I promise you that. I promise _him_ that.”

But Bruce was a realist. And he’d lost his children too many times already to ever be hopeful about their fates anymore, no matter what they did.

“But. Even if we do. Even if we lose him again.” He squeezed Dick’s hand, and his eldest glanced timidly up at him. “You won’t become a monster because of that.”

“But-”

“I don’t care about your visions. I don’t care about your so-called ‘past evidence.’” Bruce shook his head to brush the notion off. “All that evidence proves is that you love him. That you love Damian as much as he deserves, and that’s wonderful. But I know you, Dick. And I know you could never turn into that, no matter how heartbroken you were.”

Dick shook his head back in disbelief.

“And even if you could, even if you could be that kind of monster, I still know you, and I know you can’t let things go. You can’t let _people_ go. You let them live in your head, and guide your every action. I know you still look to your parents for advice when you’re stuck. Tim and the others told me how often you tried to emulate me when I was in the time stream.” Bruce smiled, despite it all. “Do you really think Damian’s memory would let you destroy yourself for him?”

Dick’s glance became a look then, and a faint smile graced his lips as well, eyes distant in memory. Bruce didn’t ask what that memory was, felt it wasn’t his place.

“He was Nightwing, in the vision.” Dick admitted anyway, softly. “Damian showed up at the end, and he was Nightwing. He was the reason I could get out of that vision, and come back to the real world.”

“See?” Bruce grinned, like a comedian whose joke was a hit with the crowd. “I _told_ you.”

Without warning, there was shifting on the bed, and a grumbled: “Father?”

Dick immediately ducked lower, hiding completely. Wouldn’t have made a difference, Bruce found when he glanced up, as Damian’s eyes were only just now opening, and barely.

“Hello, son.” Bruce whispered.

“What are you doing in here?” Damian slurred, already giving in to Alfred’s needy paws, ducking his nose against his fur. “Who are you talking to?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick twisting, dropping to his stomach and about to attempt to crawl around Titus and out of the room.

 _About_ being the key word.

“Your brother.” He hummed nonchalantly, grabbing Dick by the collar and yanking him up to a sitting position.

“My brother?” Damian’s eyes opened a little more, and instantly became concerned when his eyes landed on Dick. “Grayson? What are you doing in here?”

“I-”

“I brought him in here.” Bruce cut off. Dick and Damian both looked up at him in question. “Turns out Dick has a leg injury he didn’t tell us about. Nothing too serious I don’t think, but it definitely needs to be checked out.”

Damian frowned. “Grayson, what have I told you about-”

“Unfortunately, Dr. Pennyworth is in bed for the evening, and you know as well as I do that Dick is a big baby when it comes to getting injuries checked out and taken care of. He’ll try to run away if none of us keep an eye on him.” Bruce continued. “And I have some work to finish up. So, would you mind acting as his warden for me, until the doctor is available?”

“Of course.” Damian sighed, moving to sit up. Bruce immediately shook his head.

“No, no. No need to get up. Laying on him should be enough to weigh him down until morning.” Bruce explained, getting to his feet. With one hand, he continued to pull Dick up, and with the other, he tugged back Damian’s blankets. Damian shifted to the side immediately, watching as Bruce all but threw Dick onto the mattress next to him.

“I won’t lay on him. That’s _absurd_.” Damian yawned as Bruce tucked them both back in. Alfred purred happily between their pillows. As Bruce finished, Damian just rolled to his side, dropping his head onto Dick’s chest and flopping his arm across his torso. “But this should do.”

“Perfect.” Bruce smiled, first running his hand over both their heads, then kissing their foreheads, like they were both toddlers. “Thank you, Damian.”

Damian hummed a response, but was already drifting back to sleep. Bruce waited a moment, watched as Titus jumped onto the end of the bed, to curl up by their feet, before whispering: “See, Dick? He’s right here. You have him. He’s not going anywhere.”

Dick nodded silently, slipping an arm around Damian’s shoulders as he buried his nose in Damian’s hair.

“Get some rest.” Bruce asked. “And we can talk about this more tomorrow if you want. Or any time you want. Just come find me, okay?”

Dick nodded again. Sniffed. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled, and wiped an errant tear away from Dick’s cheek. “Don’t feel guilty for how much you love him, or how much he affects your life. That’s what sons do to fathers after all.” He said knowingly as he stood. “And don’t forget how much he loves you right back. It’d break his heart if he found out you were thinking this way on his account.”

“I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve _him_.” Dick started. “I don’t-”

“Shhh.” Bruce cut him off. Then repeated: “Just don’t forget how much he loves you right back.”

Dick didn’t answer this time, just tightened his hold on Damian’s shoulders. Satisfied, Bruce turned to leave, stopping only once to ask Titus:

“Keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

Titus chuffed lightly, tail wagging. Bruce nodded and left the room, softly closing the door behind him, leaving his sons to rest. Leaving Damian to heal a soul he didn’t even realize was broken.

Much like his eldest brother, he was very good at that.


End file.
